


bring him home

by fireyicegirl



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, So much angst, conversion camps, im sorry in advance, this is so sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireyicegirl/pseuds/fireyicegirl
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak was sent to a gay conversion camp by his mother after discovering that Eddie was gay. Now, he has finally returned to Derry, returned to his friends. See through his friend’s eyes as they watch him struggle to accept himself once more, and as they attempt to help him heal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in the It fandom so go easy on me!!

It had been four months. Four months since the Loser’s Club had been complete.

Eddie Kaspbrak had been absent from the group. Four months and five days ago someone had told Eddie’s mother that he was gay and that he was dating Richie Tozier. She had freaked out and forced him to pack his bags the second he got home from school. 

Bill remembered when Eddie had called him that day. He was crying, his words barely understandable. But when he told Bill that Sonia was sending him to a gay conversion camp, that his mother was sending him away to be ‘fixed,’ his words were clear through his tears. 

Bill had heard Eddie’s mother speaking frantically in the background to Eddie. Eddie hung up the phone while Bill was trying to console him. Bill didn’t know what to do then, he didn’t know if Eddie would call the other Losers (and oh god, what would Richie do?). 

The next day, Eddie wasn’t at school. None of the teachers had called his name in attendance, and all of the Losers were worried. Eddie hadn’t told Bill when his mother was taking him to the camp, only that she was taking him. None of them had gotten to say goodbye to Eddie. 

Richie was the only one who wasn’t completely baffled by the entire ordeal. He had been uncharacteristically quiet that day. His usual jokes had been absent, and so was Richie from most of his classes. 

Between classes, Bill had found Richie behind the dumpsters, a stub of a cigarette wedged in between his fingers. When Bill asked where Eddie was, Richie threw his cigarette on the ground, stepped on it with his foot, and said to Bill:

“On his way to the bullshit camp.”

When asked why Eddie didn’t tell anyone that his mother was making him leave that day, Richie only shrugged, and Bill could tell something was wrong. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t ask Richie any more questions. He knew better because when Richie didn’t want to talk, Richie didn’t talk. 

Bill watched Richie that first month, he watched as Richie bottled everything up inside. His jokes became a rarity, his terrible accents were abruptly absent. It wasn’t the Richie they knew who sat with them at lunch, it was a hollow shell of a boy.

Eddie completed Richie, and Richie completed Eddie. Without each other, they were just two halves of a whole, and Bill knew this. He knew how incredibly close the two had been, the friendship behind the romance went deeper than any Bill had ever known. 

So Bill understood. 

And so he waited until Richie was ready to talk.

That was until the first letter arrived. It was the second month after Eddie had left that it landed in the Denbrough’s mailbox one cloudy Monday. It was addressed to ‘The Loser’s Club’, written in Eddie’s neat handwriting. 

Bill gathered the rest of the Losers to read it. But by the second paragraph, Richie had left. The words on the page hadn’t sounded like Eddie at all. There was no firecracker spirit sparking the words, no smart-ass statements hidden in the sentences, there was no Eddie in the entirety of the letter. 

That was what prompted Richie to come out of his shell, to Bill, at least. He was at Bill’s door the next night and yanked the cap off the bottle of emotions he had been bottling up for the past two months. Bill found it vaguely nostalgic since Richie and Bill used to tell each other everything and talk about everything. Hell, Bill had been the first one Richie told about his crush on Eddie. But those talks stopped once Richie and Eddie had begun dating. 

Bill didn’t mind, he understood that it had then been Eddie’s job to listen to Richie and console him. Bill found it nice. He thought that was where the friendship between Richie and Eddie really began to grow and expand. It was a beautiful thing to see, such a close bond between two people. 

But Bill worried about Richie, especially after Richie told him everything. Richie had told Bill that he was scared, scared something bad would happen to Eddie at that camp. Richie blamed himself for whatever fucked up ‘treatment’ Eddie was receiving at that exact moment. Richie felt horrible because he couldn’t help his Eds. He even thought that he had somehow pushed Eddie to do something he didn’t want to do when they became a couple (which Bill assured him was not the case, Eddie didn’t do anything unless Eddie wanted to do it).

It broke Bill’s heart to listen to Richie degrade himself and blame himself for something that was out of his control. Bill did his best to comfort his friend, assure him that it was not his fault. He told Richie that it was Sonia’s fault, Sonia had sent Eddie to the camp, not Richie. Richie was not responsible for the event in the slightest. 

Richie reluctantly agreed, but Bill knew he didn’t really agree. He still secretly blamed himself, and Bill knew there was no convincing him otherwise. 

A week later, a second letter appeared in the Denbrough’s mailbox. Bill read it to the Losers again, and it was again a letter completely devoid of the Eddie they knew. It sounded as if some else had stolen his handwriting and written it as some kind of sick joke. 

“They’re changing him, Bill! That’s not our Eds!” Richie shouted. 

Bill knew he was right. But Bill also knew that they were probably lucky to be receiving any kind of contact from Eddie at all, even if it didn’t sound like him. It was still in his handwriting, still signed in his loopy signature. It was still Eddie’s letters. 

And the letters continued. 

They never failed to land in the Denbrough’s mailbox every week, for the next two months. They stopped being addressed to the Loser’s Club after a while though, instead, they were being addressed specifically to Bill. 

They contained mundane things, such as how bad the food was and how the weather was. He didn’t write about the camp, or what went on there. But sometimes they would consist of Eddie’s thoughts, mostly his memories of the Losers. Bill watched as they slowly began to sound like Eddie had written them. Bill word see the firecracker begin to light its fuse again. 

There was something that unnerved him, though. In Eddie’s writings of the Losers, Richie was pointedly absent from all of them. There was no mention of coke-bottle glasses or bad jokes. It was almost like Richie didn’t exist, in Eddie’s memories, that is. 

Richie’s absence from the memories stood out like a sore thumb. Without his contribution to the stories, they were bland and dull. There were some that had Richie’s stupid joke, but someone else said it. Mostly he was just left out completely, and that scared Bill.

He wondered if the camp had gotten to Eddie, really gotten to him. What if Eddie was different when he got back to Derry? And how different would he be? Bill wondered if he would even acknowledge Richie’s presence when he got back. 

Richie. Bill didn’t tell Richie about the letters. He couldn’t. If Richie knew Eddie had been writing down memories of the Losers without Richie in said memories… Bill didn’t know what Richie would do. Because that meant the camp had changed Eddie, for the worse. And Bill didn’t know if Richie could handle that. 

But two months later, a particular letter showed up in the Denbrough mailbox. It had the same envelope, same neat handwriting on it, but when Bill read its contents, his heart leaped. 

Bill reread the letter at least three times, to make sure he had read it correctly.

Eddie was finally coming home. After four months and five days of being ‘fixed’, Eddie Kaspbrak was finally returning home to Derry. 

His hands shook as he typed a message to the Loser’s group chat.

_**Bigbill:** guys… big news. meet me at the quarry in an hour._

  
  
“What’s the big news, Big Bill?” Richie asked, sat on an old tire swing. His jokes had slowly come back over the past two months. He had been trying to be louder, get back to his old self. Bill knew he wasn’t completely there, but it was progress. 

The rest of the Losers were standing in a scattered line in front of Bill.

Bill smiled, probably the biggest smile he’d smiled in months, and delivered the good news to his friends: “E-Eddie’s coming h-h-home.” He pulled the carefully folded letter from his pocket and handed it to Beverly. Mike, Stan, and Ben surrounded Beverly, all simultaneously trying to read the letter’s writing.

Richie stayed sat on his tire swing, staring at the ground, he was scarily silent. It was uncharacteristic of Richie. Bill supposed it was the mention of Eddie which triggered this response from him. Bill was about to go over to Richie, to make sure he was alright, but Beverly acted first.

She gave the letter to Stan and walked over to the old tire swing Richie was sat on. She placed a hand on his shoulder, which made him look up from the ground at her.

“You okay?” She asked him, and Bill watched as they just looked into each other’s eyes, as though they were reading each other’s thoughts. It reminded Bill of how Richie and Eddie functioned, but a very mild version. The interaction surprised Bill, he hadn’t realized that Beverly and Richie had become so close over the past few months.

“I can’t wait to have Eddie back in Derry,” Richie said, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

None of the others commented on the fact that Richie had called Eddie, well, ‘Eddie’, and not ‘Eds’ or ‘Eddie Spaghetti’. It unnerved Bill a bit because even during his and Richie’s conversations, Richie never called Eddie by his name. It had always been a nickname, without fail. The last time Bill had heard Richie call Eddie ‘Eddie’ was back when they had all first met back in first grade. 

Bill guessed Richie was acting that way because he was scared, as Richie had told him previously. Richie had not let go of the fear that Eddie would be different, he had not come to terms with the fact that the Eddie he knew would most likely not come back. The Eddie that would return to Derry would be different, and that scared Richie.

“We shouldn’t treat him any differently.” Ben piped up, seemingly to break the blanket of silence that had fallen over the group following Richie’s comment. Beverly nodded fiercely in agreement, along with Mike.

“H-He’s s-still ou-our Eddie,” Bill said, agreeing. “He’s st-st-still a part of th-the Loser’s C-Club.”

“Yeah, but–” Stan began, but Mike was the one who stopped him.

“No ‘buts’, Stan,” Mike said.

Stan gave Mike a glare, but didn’t argue any further.

Bill looked back over to where Richie sat, and caught a glimpse of something flash across his face, far too fast for Bill to properly read. Things like that happened often, then. They were small peaks into Richie Tozier’s mind, a glimpse of what Richie was really thinking. But, they tended to flash too quickly and were rarely able to be deciphered by Bill. 

But, this time Bill realized what that particular look had meant, though, since it was obvious. Richie wouldn’t be able to treat Eddie as he normally would. Bill knew Richie didn’t know how he could act around Eddie, because Eddie would be different. That was as evident to Richie as it was to Bill, and Richie hadn’t seen the letters Bill had been receiving for the past two months.

Bill changed the subject of the Loser’s conversation, not wanting to think about such matters anymore. He was lucky that the rest of the Losers took the bait, their conversation smoothly shifted to one of a more lighter tone.

The losers chatted for a bit longer after that, complaining about school, homework, family, or other trivial teenage matters. Bill eyed Richie occasionally and was relieved to see that he was participating in the conversation, instead of sitting in his scary silence, adding in his usual inappropriate jokes and comments (a classic ‘beep beep Richie’ followed each one). 

It wasn’t long after that that the rest of the Losers dispersed. Stan and Beverly had decided to go to a nearby diner, and Ben and Mike had gone to an ice cream parlor.

Richie and Bill stayed at the Quarry, sat on the back of Richie’s old pickup truck. They sat there in silence, their eyes half-focused on the water in front of them, the fading sunlight sparkling over the rippling currents. 

Bill looked over at his friend, ripping his gaze from the waters, and knew something was bothering Richie, he could see it in his friend’s posture. Richie’s shoulders were slumped more than usual (he had terrible posture, something Eddie had commented about more than a few times). His hair was wild, Bill had spotted him messing with his hair more than once after he told the Loser’s Club about Eddie. His nail polish was chipped, it looked like Richie had been picking at it.

Richie was silent, his eyes unfocused. It looked to Bill like Richie wasn’t quite there, as though Richie were instead somewhere deep in his thoughts. It was times like this that Bill felt like an extra in Richie Tozier’s life. He sat and watched his friend be lost in an endless amount of thoughts (good or bad, Bill didn’t know).

“He’s not going to be the same, Bill,” Richie whispered at last.

“I kn-know.” Bill replied, glad Richie was no longer lost in his thoughts. “But h’he’s st-st-still your bo – best fr-friend.”

Richie was silent once again. 

“Things a-are go-going to be di-different, but h-he’s still o-our Eddie. St-Still your E-Eds.” Bill said, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and gave him a comforting squeeze. 

“What if he–”

“We ca-can’t thinking of th-the ‘wh-what if’s’ right n-now.” Bill cut him off, not wanting his friend to worry himself anymore. “He-He’s not e-even ba-back yet. All w-we c-c-can do is t-try to give hi-him a sense of-of normalcy af-after what h-he’s gone the-through.”

Richie nodded solemnly, and Bill pulled him into a hug. 

Deep down, Bill shared Richie’s fear of Eddie being different when he got back to Derry. It loomed over him like a cloud in front of the sun each time he received a new letter. It was large and dark, and sometimes he would sit and think about all the possibilities of how Eddie would be. But, he would ultimately shove them down and be there for Richie and the rest of the Losers, offer them comforting words. Because that was his job, to take care of others.

And he’d be damned if he let any of his friends get hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kaspbrak returns to Derry.

The knock on Bill Denbrough’s front door startled him.

He had been working on his homework (more like just staring at the textbook, it was algebra and he really hated algebra) at the kitchen table, trying to concentrate on while his younger brother, Georgie, played his music way too loud for human ears. Georgie did that a lot lately, and the music was always either loud rock or classical music. 

It was an odd combination of genres that leaked their way through Georgie’s walls. But Georgie was twelve then, and Bill liked to say that he was entering his sad tween years. 

Bill sighed, shutting his algebra book, grateful to be able to think about something other than quadratic equations. He got up from the table, shouting at Georgie to please turn his damn music down. Luckily, Georgie was in the mood to comply (a rarity most days), and the music went from a screeching pitch to a nice, dull roar. 

Bill made his way to the front door, pausing and debating whether or not to look through the small peephole. He decided against it, figuring it must be one of the Losers. He probably should have, though, because it would have prepared him for what was on the other side of the door.

Eddie Kaspbrak stood on the other side of the door frame, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, Bill,” He said softly.

Bill didn’t say anything. He just stared for a moment, his hand still on the door, frozen. His mind couldn’t process that Eddie was right there in front of him. That his friend was there, in the flesh, not just words on a piece of scrap paper. It was difficult to describe. The feeling Bill had in that moment. It was a swelling in his chest, like his heart grew a few sizes just from seeing his friend. 

Bill didn’t remember when his feet had started moving, nor when his hand finally let go of the door but the next thing he knew, he was embracing Eddie tightly. Though he was so wrapped up in his emotions, he didn’t miss how Eddie stiffened up in Bill’s embrace, nor did he miss how long it took Eddie to embrace Bill back, and the unwillingness behind the simple movement. 

Bill wasn’t sure how long it was before he let go of Eddie, it was most likely just a moment or two, but eventually he did let go. He invited Eddie inside, and they both made their way to the couch in the Denbrough living room. Eddie sat significantly far from Bill. 

“How a-are you?” Was the first question Bill asked him.

Eddie’s answer was stalled, silence filled the room for a few seconds. Eddie was looking at the couch cushion, his brows furrowed together, as though thinking over his answer carefully.

“I’m alive,” He finally answered, his eyes returning to Bill’s face.

“E-Eddie, yo-you know wh-what I meant.”

“I know what you meant,” Eddie said softly. And Bill realized that Eddie was making an active choice not to open up to Bill. As much as it bothered him, Bill respected the decision. He knew that it was never good to push someone too far, for you might end up pushing them off the ledge.

They sat for a few moments, again in silence. Bill looked at Eddie, really looked at him for the first time since he opened the door. Eddie’s face seemed hollow, in fact, his entire body was thinner than it had been when he left. His normally tan skin was gone, replaced with a pale skin tone, one that fit better on richie than on Eddie. Bill could see the green and purple patches of healing bruises that were littered over Eddie’s skin. Bill still didn’t know what that camp had done to him, but —

“How is he?” Eddie asked, and Bill knew exactly who he was talking about.

“H-He’s alive,” Bill responded, and Eddie chuckled a bit (it didn’t seem genuine).

“Guess I deserved that.”

“He’s…” Bill trailed off, trying to find the right words to say. He didn’t want to tell Eddie how bad Richie had been doing without him, for he had the feeling that it would crush Eddie. And as Bill searched for a way to sugarcoat it, to soften the blow, he realized there really wasn’t another way to describe how Richie was doing. “He’s not-not the best. H-He really mis-misses you, he ha-hasn’t qui-quite been himself late-lately.”

Eddie looked down at his pale hands, and Bill knew he felt guilty. “I wasn’t allowed contact with him, because of our-our—” Eddie cut himself off, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Eddie’s hands found a stray string on the couch cushion, and began to fiddle with it. “I wanted to talk to him so badly, but they wouldn’t even let me say his name I—” Bill leaned over the space between them and put a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie immediately moved away from Bill’s touch, acting almost as if Bill had burned him. Eddie’s eyes widened as he realized what he had done. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry I—”

Bill interrupted him, “It’s-It’s okay. Y-You don’t have to-to explain.” 

Eddie nodded and put his head in his hands. Bill wanted to ask so many more questions. He wanted (especially after what Eddie had just done) to know what had happened at the camp and what Eddie had been told. But he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t, because it had really affected Eddie. Bill could see that now. Bill couldn’t yet tell the exact extent of the damage the camp had caused, but just judging by Eddie’s reaction to Bill’s touch, Bill thought it to be extreme. 

It was clear Eddie had fallen, no, he was pushed back down into that hole he had been hiding in his entire life. Richie had been the one to throw the rope down to Eddie, Richie had been the one to help Eddie out of that literal hellhole, and helped Eddie accept himself for who he was. The camp had erased any and all progress Eddie had made in the last year. It had cut his rope, and left Eddie back down there at the bottom of the hole, with no way out.

Eddie’s phone chimed in his pocket, and he removed his head from his hands, taking it out of his pocket. He frowned, looking at the screen. “It’s my mother, she wants me home.”

“O-Okay,” Bill said, not knowing what else to say. Eddie always listened to his mother (even after she had lied to him and convinced him he had multiple diseases when in fact he was a pretty healthy boy, other than some anxiety), and there was no point in trying to convince him to defy her wishes. So, he asked, “Wh-When are you c-coming back to-to school?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Th-That’s really soon t-to be coming ba-back,” Bill said, a bit confused. He had figured Eddie would have been able to have a few days to get used to being back at Derry, not thrown back into high school the second he returned home.

“My mother wants me back to normal as soon as possible.” _As a heterosexual_ was left unspoken, but Bill heard it loud and clear. 

  
  
The second the call with Bill ended, Beverly was in her old, beaten up truck. She had just been informed that Eddie was back in Derry, that he was back home. Bill had asked her to check on Eddie, and the tone of Bill’s voice alone worried her.

She pulled out of her driveway, her autopilot kicking in as she became lost in her thoughts.

Bill had told her that Eddie wouldn’t open up to him, not in the way Bill wanted him to. Beverly didn’t quite know what Bill expected, Eddie had clearly been through some shit, and he wasn’t going to just open up about everything that happened to him in the past four months. Beverly knew that it would take weeks, possibly months for the Losers’ Club to discover the full story of what went on at the camp. It would most likely come in small parts, little moments when Eddie would feel safe enough to tell one of them something that had happened, and they would piece it together from there.

Beverly knew those moments would not happen for a good while.

She stopped at a stop sign, and lit one of her cigarettes. ‘Cancer sticks’ she had once heard Eddie call them. She was only a few minutes away from Eddie’s house at that point, and he had no idea how she had driven so far so fast. Of course, it hadn’t been that short, Beverly had just been lost in her thoughts. 

She briefly wondered if Eddie would be different as she blew a wisp of smoke out the window. It was a stupid thing to wonder, since it was obvious he would not be the same as he was. She didn’t know exactly how different he would be, how differently he would act. Like, what if he just actively avoided all males? What if he suddenly made a group of girl friends? 

She just wanted to know already.

A car honked behind her, and she realized she had been sitting at the stop sign for way too long. She waved her hand in apology, and turned left. She then let her thoughts drift to the Losers’ Club. They would be so happy and excited to see Eddie again. A smile crept its way onto her face as she imagined what their reunion would be like. They’d all gather into a big group hug, Eddie stuck in the middle, complaining about something health-related. They would all laugh and cry and do all the sappy stuff.

She took another drag of the cigarette that was wedged between her pointer and middle finger, knowing the imagined reunion was only a fantasy. But God, it would be nice.

As she turned into Eddie’s driveway, she took one last drag of her cigarette, and put it out in the small ashtray she kept in her car. She took a deep breath, and got out of her truck, walking up to the front door. She knocked a few times on the dark wood.

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing Sonia Kaspbrak herself. She was dressed in an outfit Beverly could only describe as something a grandmother would wear. She had on a large floral print shirt, paired with tan slacks and dark brown loafers.

“Can I help you?” Sonia asked, looking Beverly up and down. Beverly realized that she had never actually met Sonia, only heard the stories Richie, Eddie, and Bill would tell about her. Every time Beverly and the other Losers had spent time at Eddie’s house, it was because Sonia was out of Derry.

“I’m here to see Eddie, I heard he’s home.” Beverly replied. 

Sonia’s face lit up at her reply, clasping her hands together in an act of joy. “Oh good! He’s only been home for a few hours and already he has girls flocking to his door. He’s right upstairs, his room is the second to the left.”

Sonia opened the door wider to let Beverly into the house. Beverly stepped inside, trying to not make a face at Sonia’s comment. She made her way up the stairs, glancing over the pictures that hung on the wall next to the staircase. 

She quickly reached Eddie’s room, and knocked a few times. It was a moment before she heard a small, “Come in,” from behind the wooden door, and she turned the knob, entering the room. 

Eddie’s room was always clean, that was a fact. There were never any clothes (dirty or clean) littered on the floor, nor was there ever any trash, it was always thrown away in the small trash bin next to Eddie’s desk. And his desk, his desk was always immaculate. Any homework he had was always laid out to be done, and his pens were always sat in their assigned cup. 

But the sight that greeted Beverly was nothing like she had ever seen. The state of Eddie’s room was out of character. Clothes were strewn everywhere, laying on various things in the room. They were so strewn about that Beverly could barely see the floor below the layer of clothes. His desk, his desk was messy. Crumpled up papers were scattered all over the surface, pens were left in random places, and not one were in the usual cup.

The room’s owner was standing next to his bed, taking things out of a brown suitcase. Eddie looked up at her with tired eyes.

He looked as bad as Bill had informed her, he had clearly lost weight. Not dramatically, but Eddie was already a pretty small boy, and the weight he had lost made him look more like a stick than a human. His usually tan skin was missing, instead his skin color was pale like Richie’s. She could see fading bruises on his arms, and she wanted more than anything to know what had happened. This must’ve been how Bill had felt.

Instead, she settled with a blunt comment, “You look like shit, Eddie.”

Eddie cracked a smile (she couldn’t tell if it was completely genuine or not), and said, “Nice to see you again too, Beverly.”

Beverly walked over to him, uncaringly stepping on his clothes with her dirty shoes, and embraced him tightly. She felt Eddie return the bug just as tight, his head burying itself into her shoulder. She smoothed his hair, which wasn’t styled in its normally neat style. “It’s good to have you back.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, his grip on her tightening.

Beverly eventually released him and pulled him onto the bed. “I’m not going to berate you with questions about what happened, okay? You can tell me about whatever fucked up shit happened back there when you’re ready to talk about it, okay?”

Eddie nodded, “Thank you, Bev.”

She smiled, “You missed a fucking lot while you were gone. Want me to fill you in?”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth twitched up. “Yes, god, please.”

Beverly began telling him of the stupid things that happened while he was away.

  
  
Beverly didn’t end up leaving Eddie’s until late that night. She had been telling him stories of things that happened while he was away. Like when Mike and Ben had attempted to bake a cake for Bill’s birthday, but they dropped it on the way in the door because it was so large. Or the time when 

Eddie had chuckled at a few of them, but Beverly could see the far away look in his eye. There were various times when Beverly was telling a story that he seemed to tune out, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. She didn’t comment on it, Eddie would explain himself when he was ready.

Sonia had been thrilled that Beverly was over, constantly knocking on Eddie’s door and asking if they needed anything. Beverly thought that Sonia believed Beverly and Eddie would get into a romantic relationship. It was far from reality, but let the woman believe what she wanted.

Beverly was in her truck, her autopilot kicking in once again. She had left only a few minutes ago, and already she needed a cigarette. She pulled out her pack at a red light, and lit one of them. She also pulled out her phone, opening the phone app and scrolling through her contacts until she reached Bill’s name.

The phone rang a few times before Bill answered with a “ _Hello?_ ”

“It’s bad, Bill.”

Bill’s sigh was loud in her ear, “ _I kn-know._ ”

“I’m worried about him. He’s not acting like himself at all,” Beverly said, her mind drifting back to Eddie’s behaviors. “Like, at all. That place did a lot of fucking damage.”

“ _It cha-changed him._ ” Bill agreed with her.

Beverly sighed into the phone as she pulled into her driveway. She shifted her truck into park, then slumped down in her seat. “I’m not sure how to help him.”

“ _I th-think we just ne-need to be-be there for him r-right now._ ”

“You’re right,” She said, glancing at her front door. Her eyes found the clock on her radio, it read 11:24 p.m. She remembered that she still had homework to do, and rubbed her eyes. “I’ve got to go, still got a lot of homework for Ms. Green, damn her and her annotated bibliographies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“ _S-See you then._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikeees it gets better i promise


	3. Chapter 3

The small cigarette felt heavy in Richie’s hand. He brought it to his lips, sucking in the bitter-tasting smoke into his lungs. He was sat on his roof, his long, lanky legs dangling off the side. He liked sitting up there, it was quiet, there was no yelling able to be heard, nor was there any reason for him to be yelled at.

He exhaled, and the smoke left his lips in a small wisp, quickly fading into the air. 

He looks out over the horizon. Derry had the shittiest sunrise (the colors were always murky and never quite faded into that well-known ombre), but it was nice to watch it nevertheless. He and Eddie used to watch the sunrise together when he was still there. They would sit on the roof, hands intertwined, just looking at the sky, pretending the sky was creating those colors just for them. 

God, he fucking missed Eddie. 

Richie pulled out his phone to distract himself from such thoughts (since they tended to bring him down, and he felt as though he needed to hold it together for the rest of the Losers), but his lock screen stopped him. 

It was a picture of him and Eddie, they were laughing, Richie’s hugging Eddie from behind, and Eddie smiling so wide. Richie remembered that day, it had been around six months before. 

  
  
_“You wound me, Eds!” Richie said in his best British accent, pressing a hand to his heart. “My accents are incredible!”_

__

_“Incredibly terrible,” Eddie said, though he was still laughing at Richie’s accent._

_Richie laughed along with him, taking his hand. He pulled Eddie to him and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist. There was warmth radiating from his skin, it seeped through the fabric hanging off their bodies. Richie pulled Eddie flush against his side and felt Eddie’s arms snake their way around his neck._

_“You love me,” Richie said, leaning closer to Eddie, their noses barely brushing._

_Eddie smiled, “Sadly.”_

_“Get a room!” Stan shouted from a few feet away. Richie and Eddie had forgotten about them. All seven of them were at the park, sat at the picnic tables. They were supposed to be spending time as a group, but Richie and Eddie had snuck away for a few moments for a walk alone together. A few minutes had turned into twenty, and the two were walking back to the group, Richie doing his best impressions for his boyfriend._

_Richie laughed and Eddie turned around in his arms to face the rest of the group, laughing along with Richie. There was a camera flash, and Richie looked to Bev who was smiling mischievously. She was holding his phone, “Your new lock screen, you’re welcome.”_

  
  
Richie realized that his phone screen had gone black, he had been staring at it for so long. He quickly unlocked his phone and was met with yet another picture of him and Eddie. This one was showcasing them sleeping, taken by Bev. Their limbs were entertained together, Richie’s arm was swung over Eddie’s waist, his glasses were askew on his sleeping face. Eddie’s head was resting on Richie’s other arm, and mouth was open, drooling (just slightly, but when Richie had woken up there was a little pool of drool on his sleeve, he had thought it was the cutest thing in the world while Eddie had been grossed out with himself and made Richie change his shirt). 

Richie opened his phone app, which got rid of the home screen picture. He scrolled through his contacts and opened up Bev’s contact. He called her. 

The phone rang a few times before a sleepy Bev answered, “ _Hello?_ ” 

“Hey Bev,” Richie said, taking a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t be smoking, Eddie had told him many times not to, that they would give him cancer. He had listened for a while, but when Eddie had left, there was no longer anyone to stop him from smoking. 

“ _Hey Trashmouth,_ ” Bev said, sounding like she was a bit more awake. “ _What’s up?_ ” 

“Ms. fucking Green’s project is killing me,” He said, blowing the smoke from his lungs. “Worked on it for two hours straight and barely got jackshit done.” 

Bev laughed on the other line, “ _Well, that’s Ms. Green for you, all her work is difficult._ ” 

Richie grunted in agreement, letting his cigarette dangling from his fingers. He looked up at the sky, the colors of the sunrise were still murky, and the sun hadn’t moved at all. 

“ _May I ask what the hell you’re doing awake at five a.m.?_ ” Bev asked, breaking the short silence they had fallen into. 

“I’m becoming a new man, Bev, waking up at five and going to sleep at eight. I feel exhilarated!” 

“ _You are the biggest insomniac I know,_ ” Bev said, seeing (well, hearing) through his bullshit. “ _What’s up? What’s bugging you?_ ” 

Richie sighed, she had caught him. She always managed to see right through him. “I don’t know, Bev. I haven’t been fucking sleeping, I can’t stop thinking about him.” 

“ _Is there anything I can do?_ ” Bev asked, and Richie heard shuffling on her end of the line. 

Richie put out his cigarette, crushing the embers into dust. He then rubbed at his eyes, shrugging, “Have you heard anything about him? Or from him? Anything at all?” 

Bev was silent for a moment, and for a second, Richie got worried. What if something had happened to Eddie? What if he wasn’t coming home for some reason? 

“ _No,_ ” Bev finally answered, a quietness to her voice. Richie exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She continued talking, “ _Now, since you’ve woken me up to the point that I won’t fall back asleep, let’s go get some fucking coffee._ ” 

Richie laughed, grateful that she was offering him a distraction. “Alright, Marsh. You drive and I’ll pay?” 

“ _Sounds like a plan,_ ” Bev said. “ _I’ll be there in ten minutes, be ready or I’m leaving without you._ ” 

  
  
The coffee shop was empty, to Richie and Bev’s surprise. The tables, having not been sat at and littered on yet, were clean, their surfaces were shining. The floor was spotless, no straw wrappers had been thrown on the floor. The trash wasn’t overflowing with empty cups and wrappers and god knows what else people bring to coffee shops. 

Richie hadn’t been to the coffee shop in a few weeks, for no reason in particular. He hadn’t needed the caffeine to keep him awake, his thoughts had been doing a pretty damn good job at that. 

After they ordered their drinks (Richie paying for them both), they sat down at a table and waited for them to be made. They both pulled out their phones, getting onto social media. They scrolled on their feeds for a few moments, and then their names were called, signaling that their drinks were ready. 

The sat back down at their table, drinks in hand. “Are you excited for Ms. Green’s essay?” Bev asked. 

“Fuck that,” Richie said, taking a drink of his sugary iced coffee. “Watch her make us write like, ten pages on basically nothing.” 

“Not sure what else you expect from the Wicked Witch herself,” Bev said. “I heard she’s planning on giving us a project on top of that.” 

“Can she give us a break for like, two days?” 

“Apparently not,” Bev said. 

The continued taking of trivial things, schoolwork and new gossip about the people at their high school. It was nice, Richie’s mind was not burdened by the heavy thoughts for the first time in a long time. 

Bev stood at one point, and Richie raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Nature calls.” She said and walked to the bathroom. 

Richie chuckled to himself and took a drink of his coffee. He looked at it and realized it was almost empty. Had he really drank that much while chattering away to Bev? No wonder Bev had to pee. 

Richie’s phone pinged, and he picked it up. Bill had texted him, what was Bill doing awake at 5:30 a.m.? 

_**big bill:** Eddie got back last night, and I thought you should know that he’s coming back to school today. We’re planning on waiting for him on the front steps if you want to join, I understand if you don’t. _

Richie read the text and then read it again. His head was trying to process what was going on. It was so sudden. They had just gotten the letter from Eddie not a few days ago, and already he was back, he was home. 

Eddie was home, his Eds was home. 

But Bev had said… 

The confusion dropped from his face as he realized that she had lied to Richie. That was when Bev returned from her trip to the bathroom, still grinning. She sat back down in her seat and took a sip of her coffee. She looked up at Richie’s face, and her face dropped, probably sensing something was up. 

“What’s that look for?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Richie slid his phone to her, still open on Bill’s text, “You told me you hadn’t heard anything about Eddie.” 

Bev picked up Richie’s phone, reading the text displayed on the screen. She sighed and handed the device back to Richie. She opened her mouth to explain, but Richie put a hand up to stop her. 

“Don’t make excuses, Bev,” He said, more hurt than upset. Bev knew that Richie wanted to know exactly when she knew that Eddie was back in Derry, and yet she kept it from him. He didn’t know if she was trying to protect him or some bullshit like that, but what really hurt him was that she lied to him. “Did you talk to him?” 

“I did,” Bev said. 

“Is he okay?” Richie asked. 

Bev paused, clearly thinking over her answer, the same way Bill did. “I couldn’t tell, but I assume not.” 

Richie nodded and looked down at his almost empty coffee. He had the feeling that she hadn’t just talked Eddie, but that she had seen him as well. He also had the feeling that Bill had seen Eddie too, especially when he thought back to the letters. Bill had been the only one that Eddie had trusted enough to write too, and Richie knew Eddie well enough that he would have gone to see Bill, because even if Eddie wasn’t quite… Eddie anymore, he would’ve wanted to see his friends the second he got back, no matter what Sonia said. 

“Let’s just go to school,” Richie said, standing up with his coffee. Bev silently nodded, mimicking Richie’s actions. They both threw their coffee away and headed out the door to Bev’s truck. Richie’s thoughts drifted back to the letters as he got into the car and felt the engine rumble to life. 

Bill had been the only one to receive the letters. Why it was Bill, Richie didn’t know. Maybe Eddie hadn’t been allowed to talk to Richie but fuck, couldn’t Eddie have at least tried? That was selfish of him to think. Maybe he did try, and the camp stopped him. Who fucking knew, not Richie. 

But those letters were not Eddie, Richie knew that for sure. The only part of those letters that was Eddie was his incredibly neat handwriting. The boy’s handwriting sometimes looked as if it were typed, it was so neat and precise. But still, those letters were not Eddie’s words. 

Richie didn’t know how the camp had really changed Eddie. The letters hadn’t clued any of the Losers in on that. Richie remembered that Eddie had promised not to let the camp change him and how he thought of himself. But Richie knew, even then, that Eddie wouldn’t have been able to keep that promise. As strong as Eddie was, there were still insecurities he had that the camp would have been on like a leech. Richie had researched how the camps worked (which was not a good idea, it just made him worry more about Eddie), and they were brutal. And because of that, Richie knew Eddie had broken his promise, and he knew that camp had fucked him up, even before seeing him again. 

The car hit a pothole, jolting Richie. “Jesus, learn how to fucking drive.” 

Bev snorted and sped up. She was a reckless driver, always went 30 miles above the speed limit (how she hadn’t gotten a ticket yet was a mystery to Richie), never used her turn signal, and was forever running yellow lights. Why had Richie agreed to let her drive again? 

“Richie,” Bev said, and Richie looked over at her. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Eddie, it’s just…” 

“It’s just what?” Richie asked. 

“It’s bad, Richie, it’s really bad,” Bev said and began groping around for her pack of cigarettes. After watching her struggle for a minute, Richie pulled one from his own pack and handed it to her. “Thanks,” She said, taking the cigarette from him. 

Richie watched her light the cigarette with the lighter. “How bad is he?” 

Bev exhaled a long breath full of smoke. “It’s better if you just see.” 

  
  
It took them five more minutes to get to school, Bev swung her car into the parking spot that was closest to the school entrance (she snagged the spot each day without fail) and jerked to a stop. 

“Bev, you’re a shit driver,” Richie said as he got out of the truck. 

“Love you too, Trashmouth,” Bev said as she locked the truck. 

As they walked to the entrance of the school, Richie spotted the rest of the Losers standing under a tree that was next to the front stairs. Richie and Bev quickly made their way over to them, Bev waving and smiling. 

Once they were in earshot, Richie dramatically said to them, “Bev almost killed me back there!” 

“It’s a shame she didn’t succeed,” Stan said as he leaned against the tree. 

“Fuck you, Uris.” 

“I’ll pass,” Richie flipped Stan off at that. 

The Losers were quiet for a few moments after that. Richie quickly got lost in his thoughts, and he figured the rest of them did as well. 

Richie knew that Bev had already seen and spoke to Eddie, and he guessed that Bill had as well. And as much as it pissed him off, he knew why they didn’t tell him, and instead why they told him that morning. They knew he would have bolted to Eddie’s house. And they were fucking right, he would have. He wanted to know that Eddie was okay, that he was safe and sound and just alive. It’s difficult to remember that someone is still alive when you haven’t seen them in so long. 

Maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to see Richie yet. Maybe that’s why they didn’t tell him that his boyfriend was back in Derry— 

Boyfriend.

Were they still boyfriends? Richie didn’t quite know, they hadn’t broken up before Eddie left. Richie brought the topic up, but Eddie had quickly shut it down, saying that he loved Richie too much to do that to him. Eddie had thought that that would have caused more pain to Richie than Eddie just being sent to that camp for a few months. 

“Is that him?” Stan’s voice broke Richie out of his thoughts. He followed Stan’s gaze and saw a small boy getting out of an old Ford. Richie watched as the boy said something to his mother and then shut the car door. The boy stood, waving to his mother until she drove off. And when she did, Eddie turned towards the school, looking up at the tall building. 

Richie watched him take a large sigh. 

Eddie then spotted the Losers, and a nervous expression made its way onto his face. He began making his way to the Losers’ Club, his strides were short and slow. It felt as though they were all in a movie, and this was the dramatic reuniting of the friend group. The rest of the Losers stood still, unsure of what to do or say. 

When Eddie finally made it to the group, he stood in front of them. There was a long silence as Eddie took in the sight of his friends, and as the Losers took in the sight of Eddie. Richie could’ve fucking cried right there, just looking at Eddie made his heart swell. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, an uncharacteristic timidness to his voice. Richie could tell something was really off from that alone, but the rest of the Losers took that as their invite to approach Eddie. They got closer to him, greeting him with warm ‘hellos’ and ‘welcome homes’. Richie didn’t follow their actions, instead, he stood back a few feet and just watched. 

As the boys began to hug Eddie, Richie caught the hesitancy in Eddie’s responses, how long it took for Eddie to hug Stan back, the uncertainty and almost fear that flashed on his face as he hugged the rest of the boys. Richie didn’t think any of the other noticed this, and if they did, they pretended not to. The only time Eddie looked to feel safe to hug back was when Bev hugged him. He hugged her tightly around her waist, his face was buried in her shoulder. 

Richie felt his blood boil. He knew this was the work of the camp, that fucking camp. It had made him scared to hug his friends. Richie could hit something. 

“Richie?” Bev said his name, and he looked at her, she had an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Richie guessed it was his turn to welcome Eddie home. 

He walked up to Eddie, and the other Losers were watching him intently (it was like it was some dramatic ass moment). And when Eddie looked up at him with his beautiful brown eyes, Richie felt his anger melt away. He wanted to hug Eddie, he wanted to kiss him and hold him close. But he knew that would probably make Eddie extremely uncomfortable. 

So, he pushed back those urges. He reached out and ruffled Eddie’s hair, a genuine smile cracking on his face in what seemed like months. “Welcome back, Eds.” 

Eddie gave Richie a soft smile and fixed his hair. 

Neither Richie nor the rest of the Losers commented on the lack of Eddie’s normal retort of ‘Don’t call me Eds’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yi ke  
> drop by my tumblr - reddhie (:


	4. Chapter 4

Richie lay on his bed, it was night time, and by night time he meant around two in the morning.

He hadn’t been able to sleep that night, partly from his insomnia, but mostly because his mind was wandering places he wished it wouldn’t. He was thinking about Eddie because he just couldn’t get over how incredibly different Eddie was. He definitely was not the same Eddie who had left four months ago.

Eddie’s clothes were drastically different. Gone were his normal pastel colored polo shirts and shorts (which Richie loved), instead he wore dark colored button-up shirts and khakis. It was such a stark contrast to Eddie’s normal style, it was as if someone had turned the saturation down on his clothes. Richie briefly wondered if Eddie was taught to dress that way at the fucking shitty camp.

Eddie also acted odd with any boy that came into physical contact with him, he acted like the touch of a boy burned him or something. One time, Mike had swung his arm around Eddie’s shoulders in a friendly way, and Eddie had ducked his head and had immediately gotten out of Mike’s grasp. Eddie realized what he’d done and apologized to Mike profusely.

The worst thing of all, Richie thought, was that Eddie didn’t talk to the other boys much. A few words here and there, but never any full conversations like he normally would have had. Instead, he stayed close to Bev, continuously walking beside her, and sat next to her at lunch (which was strange, since it was Ben’s place to sit next to Bev, and it always has been). Bev was the only Loser that Eddie acted almost normally with (as close as Eddie could get to normal those days). When Richie witnessed the two talking, he could almost see the Eddie who left four months ago.

Almost.

And it was hard to watch. It was really fucking hard to watch. And it had only been a few days since Eddie had gotten back to Derry. Richie didn’t know if the other Losers had noticed these things, they probably noticed the clothing change, but maybe Richie was the only one who had noticed the strange behaviors Eddie was exhibiting.

The worst part of it all was that Richie hadn’t talked to Eddie since he first got back to school, especially since Eddie was always in a short conversation with Bev or zoning out (he tended to look like he was somewhere else, somewhere far away when he zoned out) during the Losers’ conversations at lunch. 

Richie also couldn’t figure out what to say for the life of him. Imagine that. Richie Tozier not knowing what to say. To Eddie Kaspbrak of all people.

Even though they had been best friends for years and boyfriends for months, Richie was at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He couldn’t figure out how to start a conversation with Eddie anymore. Hell, he didn’t know if Eddie even wanted to speak to Richie. God, what if the camp convinced him that Richie was like, some sort of shitty person? Someone who was trying to corrupt Eddie or something ridiculous like that?

It was hard to think about.

Richie grabbed his phone from his nightstand, unlocking it and opening up his social media apps. He scrolled for a few moments, desperately trying to get his mind off Eddie, watching stupid videos of wannabe comedians and funny cat videos and fail compilations.

After twenty minutes of no success, Richie gave up. He pulled up his phone app and called the only person who would put up with his shit this late at night: Bev.

The phone rang a few times before Bev answered, sounding annoyed and sleepy.

“ _This is the second time you’ve woken me up early, it better be important._ ”

Richie took a moment to answer, “He’s not himself, Bev.”

Richie heard Bev sigh on the other end of the line and some shuffling of blankets. “ _I know._ ”

“Has he talked to you? About anything?”

“ _No,_ ” Bev said, then paused. “ _I don’t think we’re going to hear anything about the camp for a while. Eddie will tell us about it when he’s ready._ ”

“What if he’s never ready though? What then?”

“ _I don’t know, Richie. _”__

____

“It’s like he thinks something bad will happen if he touches another boy, have you fucking noticed that? It’s like he thinks it’s a crime to be gay.” Richie said angrily. 

“ _Right now, to Eddie, it might be. We don’t know what he was told there, Rich._ ”

“Then we’ve got to fucking show him that it’s not! He can be who he is without it being a bad fucking thing!”

Bev was silent for a few seconds. “ _It’s late, Richie. And I’ve got a presentation tomorrow._ ”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“ _I did. But Richie, we can’t fucking fix him in one day! It’s obviously caused a lot of fucking damage and Richie, I am so fucking tired right now._ ”

“I don’t care! This is Eddie we’re talking about!”

Bev was silent once again and Richie could hear her soft breathing through the phone.

“ _It’s late. I’ll talk to you when it’s not two am and I have a presentation in the morning._ ”

Richie hung up the phone in anger. He knew he wasn’t the only one who cared about Eddie, but for fuck’s sake, right then it sure felt like he was. He felt as though he was the only one who was putting in any effort to help Eddie, even though Richie was the only one Eddie hadn’t said a word to…

Richie threw his phone on the mattress and watched as it tumbled to the ground.

  
  
Richie stood in front of the Denbrough house, a lit cigarette in his hand. He had been smoking more of them lately. The small sticks of tobacco always seemed to calm his nerves down, helped him actually think instead of trying and failing to rearrange his thoughts into something coherent, but the Denbroughs didn’t particularly enjoy the smell of cigarette smoke wafting through their house, so Richie put it out with his shoe.

He rapped his knuckles a few times on the wooden door. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Georgie, Bill’s younger brother. He beamed at Richie, “Hey Richie!”

“Hey Georgie,” Richie said, giving the boy a smile. He was still amazed at how much Georgie had grown in the past few years. He remembered when Georgie was only six, and all Richie knew about him was the fact that he always wore his yellow rain jacket. He had constantly been a yellow blob in the backyard, Richie and Bill peering down at him from Bill’s bedroom window. 

And now Georgie was twelve, listening to some of the same bands the Losers listened to (plus some random ones, Richie remembered Bill mentioning something about hearing a classical rock band? Or something like that) and he no longer wore his yellow rain jacket.

“You here to see Bill?” He asked.

“Yeah, is he home?”

“Yep, his room’s upstairs. And since I know you’ve forgotten since you’re so old, it’s the last door on the left.” Richie laughed, Georgie had been giving everyone slightly smart-ass comments lately (Bill had said it was because he had entered his ‘sad tween years’).

“Thanks, squirt,” Richie said as George let him into the house, and ruffled his hair as he walked into the house. Georgie went into the living room, where Richie guessed he was set up for the day. Richie made his way up the stairs and made a B-line to Bill’s room. He glanced at the photos that hung on the wall in the hallway and stopped at one.

Many of them were pictures of the Denbrough family at various events, but there was one that was of the Losers’ Club when they were younger. It had been taken at the Quarry and they were covered in mud. It was of right after the mud fight had finished (Eddie hadn’t been happy about the mud aspect of it) and Bev had suggested they take a photo with her new camera. Their arms were swung around each other and there were large grins on their faces.

Except for Eddie and Richie. Richie smiled at the memory. Eddie had done his best not to get dirty, going to far as to hide behind trees and the others (because Sonia likely would have killed him if he had come back half as dirty as the rest of the Losers were). And Richie, being the asshole child he was, had enveloped Eddie in a hug, getting so much mud onto Eddie’s mostly clean clothes. And so forever captured in the photo was Eddie’s slightly blurry, disgusted face and him pulling away from Richie who had a giant smile on his face.

Richie looked at it a moment more, replaying the memory once more in his head, then got back on the path to Bill’s room. When he got to Bill’s door, he realized that he should have probably texted Bill to warn him that he was coming. But he was already there, so he just knocked on the door.

“I’ve a-already helped yo-you with your homework twi-twice, G-Georgie,” Bill said from inside the room.

Richie gasped in dramatic fashion, placing a hand over his heart. “I am hurt,” he said, doing his best (it was pretty bad) Georgie impression, “that you wouldn’t help me a third time.”

Bill groaned from the other side of the door. “Richie.” A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Bill. “Wh-What’s up?”

Richie dropped his hand from his chest and gave Bill a look. Bill nodded in understanding, opening his door so that Richie could step in. Once Richie was in, Bill shut the door behind him and Richie looked around at Bill’s room. He had always liked Bill’s room, it was always mostly clean (maybe a few clothes were strewn here and there, but never anything excessive) and never smelled as nasty as most teenage boys’ rooms. Richie didn’t know how the fuck he did it, but the room always smelled fresh.

The two boys sat on Bill’s small bed, Richie’s shoulders slumping and his eyes cast down to his hands. Bill sat quietly, waiting for Richie to speak.

“He’s just…” Richie began to speak, but stopped himself, unable to find the correct words. It was kind of funny, Richie had been thinking about this constantly for a few days at that point and he still couldn’t find the words to express himself. “Has he—has he said anything to you? About anything at all?”

Bill was quiet for a moment, and Richie looked over at him, watching him think. He knew he was trying to find the right words as he so often did, to soften the blow of things for Richie. He somehow always found the right words to say. Richie thought Bill would be a good therapist. Or a good writer. Richie appreciated it at times, but right now he wanted to know what was going on. 

“He h-has,” Bill finally said. “He’s as-asked about you.”

Richie frowned, “Why doesn’t he just fucking ask me himself?”

“I thi-think you know wh-why, Rich.”

He didn’t fucking know why. Not completely anyway, he had his speculations, like maybe the fucking camp brainwashed him into thinking Richie was some evil person trying to get him to sin, or Eddie was just scared to talk to Richie after the camp. Richie didn’t fully know the reason his boyfriend (god, is that what they still were?) hadn’t said a word to him for so long.

It pissed him off. 

Richie laid back on the bed, saying, “I don’t fucking know why. He hasn’t said a goddamn word to me since he’s gotten back. Not a word!”

“He ju-just needs s-some time,” Bill suggested.

Richie shook his head. Eddie didn’t do shit like that, he didn’t just not talk to Richie for no reason. Eddie had always been good at communicating to Richie whenever he was upset or sad or mad. He wasn’t the time to just ignore, it just wasn’t him.

“Eddie’s not like that. He doesn’t just not talk to people,” Richie said, looking at the ceiling. “Something fucking happened at that camp, I just know it.”

Bill said nothing, seeming to have nothing to say nor any comforting words. Richie just looked at him, and Bill looked back. There was sympathy in his gaze, and Richie didn’t want it.

He just wanted to talk to Eddie and have him talk back.

  
  
“ _He’s really wor-worried about E-Eddie, _” Bill stuttered on the other side of the line. He had called Beverly a few minutes ago, seeming to be worried about Richie.__

____

____

“Eddie has been asking about Richie, not a lot, but enough to notice,” Beverly said into the phone. “I think he’s scared to talk to Richie.”

Bill sighed, “ _I do-don’t think R-Richie is going to ta-talk to Eddie fir-first, he’s st-still worried a-about the effect of the-the camp on Eddie an-and he doesn’t kn-know if it’d ma-make Eddie un-uncomfortable or s-something._ ”

“I don’t think Eddie’s going to be talking to Richie anytime soon, I really think that camp did a number on him.”

“ _Has he-he told yo-you anything?_ ”

Beverly shook her head, then remembered she was talking on the phone. “No, he hasn’t told me anything at all. I’m getting worried.” She heard Bill sigh on the other side of the line. “But I think we should try to get them together in a group thing, you know? Like, we all do something together. That might help a bit.”

“ _Th-That’s a good id-idea, Bev._ ”

“How’s a movie night sound? It wouldn’t involve too much talking, it would be just enough though.”

“ _I li-like it._ ”

“I’ll let everyone know. How’s Friday at your place sound?”

“ _Per-perfect._ ”

Beverly ran a hand through her short hair. “Let’s hope this works.”

“ _Fingers cro-crossed._ ”

  
  
Richie walked down the hallway, his shoulders were slumped and his hair was hanging in his face. He had gotten to school an hour early (he was that kid today) because he had to retake a test he had missed (He had been skipping class a lot, opting instead to smoke behind the dumpster and think about Eddie). 

He knew he probably shouldn’t be doing that, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t focus in class anymore, he was always thinking about Eddie. He knew he needed to be in class to know what was going to be on the tests, but it was hard to concentrate when his thoughts could only focus on Eddie. He had been lucky though, Stan was in the class and had given him the study guide (Richie now owed Stan a favor). He was pretty sure he aced it.

Richie walked to his locker, surprised at how quickly he had gotten there. He guessed that it was because there was no one there, therefore there was no one to shove past or get stuck behind a slow walker.

He put in his combination and opened his locker, setting his backpack down on the floor. He pulled out his textbooks which smelt strongly of cigarettes (what else was he supposed to do while studying?). He wrinkled his nose at the smell and hoped someone in one of his classes would have some kind of perfume or cologne to spray on it. He didn’t think his teachers would appreciate it if he came to class with textbooks that smelt so strongly of cigarettes.

He stuffed them into his locker and heard footsteps approaching. He turned and saw Bev who was closely followed by Eddie. They were talking about something that Richie couldn’t hear. But Eddie was almost smiling and that was the most Richie had seen him do so, and it was different than the awkward smiles he’d been giving the rest of the Losers.

Bev turned her head, saw Richie and smiled. Richie smiled back, leaning against his locker.

“Hey fucker,” Bev said as she and Eddie got closer to him, Richie’s eyes focused on Eddie. Eddie suddenly found the hem of his dark colored shirt interesting.

“Hey Marsh,” He returned, ripping his eyes from Eddie, focusing instead on the redhead in front of him.

“Why’re you here so damn early?” Bev asked. “Don’t you normally get here for a minute before the bell?”

Richie laughed. “Had to make up that Economics test from last week. Can’t be held back, what’ll you do without me?”

“God, a girl can dream,” Bev said, her smile widening. “But sadly, you somehow get straight A’s. I’m stuck with you.”

Richie winked at her and put on his best British accent. “Forever and always, my dearest Bev.”

He saw her eyes widen a bit, a slight twinkle behind them. He realized that he hadn’t spoken in an accent since Eddie left. He hadn’t had the heart to attempt them, there had been no one to tell him to ‘shut up’ (that wasn’t true, but it was the one he wanted to tell him to shut up that was not there). He guessed it was unintentional progress, maybe it was because Eddie was in close proximity to him (and not ten feet away).

“We’re having a movie night this Friday, and you’re coming,” Bev told him.

“I love a dominant woman.”

Bev rolled her eyes, “You have a boyf—” She caught herself before she finished the word. Richie’s eyes went to Eddie, who was looking at Richie. Their eyes met for a moment and Richie knew, he just knew, that Eddie had something he wanted to say. He had that look in his eye. The same look had been there the first time Eddie told Richie that he loved him.

But Eddie ripped his eyes from Richie’s gaze, returning to the hem of his shirt.

That was when the half hour ‘til bell rang, and Richie took it as his cue to leave. “I’m gonna go to class. I’ll probably scare the shit out of Mr. Patton since I’m here so fucking early. See you two at lunch.” He did a little salute and headed to his first-period class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKKKESS it's been so long since i posted on here??? so sorry y'all have had to wait for my dumbass to post. im working on ch 6 5 now, im making no promises on when it'll be up but let's hope it's soon. write a review to encourage me to write more ((,:


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is late and unedited but enjoy

“Okay, okay, but, chew on this, where would you guys be living if America didn’t exist?” Richie asked the rest of the Losers at lunch.

Bill furrowed his eyebrows, “Wh-What kind o-of question is-is that?”

“A good one,” Richie said, picking up a fry. He pointed it at Stan, “Staniel Urinal—”

“That is _not_ my name,” Stan interrupted, his usual glare directed now at Richie. Richie noticed that Stan enjoyed glaring a lot at people, sometimes he’d even glare at the air (but maybe that was just Stan’s face, Stan did have a resting bitch face). Richie thought that Stan would get wrinkles early because of his excessive glaring.

“—where would you be living if the United States didn’t exist?” Richie continued on with his question, ignoring Stan’s remark.

“I thought it was if _America_ didn’t exist, not the United States,” Ben piped up from his place beside Mike. 

Richie scoffed, “Same thing!”

“Richie, did you even pay attention in geography?” Stan asked, poking at his burger with a fork.

“Fuck you,” Richie said to Stan and threw a french fry at him, then he turned to Mike. “Okay, Handy Mikey, where do you think you would be living if the United States didn’t exist?”

Mike thought for a second, then responded, “Hopefully somewhere in France, or Canada.” 

“I-I-I’d definitely be liv-living in Italy, it seems so-so pea-peaceful there.” Bill answered Richie’s question, seeming to be thinking out loud.

“Canada. Everyone’s so nice up there,” Ben answered, following Bill’s answer.

“I agree with Ben, Canada has some of the nicest people,” Bev commented, leaning her elbows on the table (Richie was going to make a joke about Bev being unladylike, but he had already pissed off Stan that period so he opted out of it). Richie watched as Bev nudged Eddie (who was sat beside her as always, his food left untouched on his tray), asking him, “What about you, Eddie?”

Eddie blinked, once, twice, and then looked at Bev, as if he had just snapped out of his thoughts. “Hm?” He asked, his voice quiet.

Bev repeated the question to him, and he looked at the other Losers, who were looking at him (he did not look at Richie, though) awaiting his answer. Eddie looked away for a moment, thinking.

Thinking, Eddie always looked like he was thinking nowadays, his mind was always far, far away from wherever Eddie was. Richie knew this because his eyes rarely left Eddie’s form. In class, at lunch, whenever the Losers would hang out at the Quarry together. He was always watching Eddie, because that was the only way for Richie to know how he was doing (since neither Bill nor Bev knew anything, they hadn’t pried). Richie could always tell how Eddie was doing just by looking at him, even before they had started dating, a change in Eddie’s posture or how he held his hands could have indicated that something was wrong.

Richie often sought out Eddie’s gaze, he just wanted those chocolate eyes to be looking at him for once and for Eddie’s eyes never seemed to find Richie’s. They had had two shared gazes in the past five months, the first one had been when Eddie returned to school, the second had been when Richie had caught Eddie looking at him while he and Bev were talking.

Everything in Eddie’s eyes screamed ‘something is terribly wrong’ to Richie.

“England,” Eddie’s voice pulled Richie out of his thoughts.

“Why England?” Richie questioned. 

Eddie looked at Richie, and Richie knew well enough.

  
  
When the bell rang that signaled the end of lunch, the Losers all got up to throw what was left of their lunch away. They were still chatting away when Bill pulled Beverly aside, telling the others to go on without them.

Eddie looked a bit lost looking at Beverly, because they tended to walk to sixth period together, and Beverly gave him a smile, telling him that she’ll see him in class. She watched as he hesitantly walked out of the cafeteria, alone.

She turned back to Bill, who was cleaning off the trash left on their table, piling it onto his lunch tray. She almost chuckled at his politeness, but when Bill turned to her, he had a serious look on his face.

“I-I need to ask-ask you to d-do something f-for me.” He said, and Beverly raised her eyebrows.

“What do you need?” She asked.

“I ne-need you to ta-talk to E-Eddie.”

“No,” she said. “He’ll talk to us when he’s ready.”

“It’s been a-a month, B-Beverly,” Bill said, and began walking towards the trash can with his lunch tray.

Beverly quickly followed suit with her own lunch tray, ready to continue arguing. Bill spoke again before she could. “I-I’m just worried th-that he’s bottling ev-everything u-up. It’s not-not healthy.” He said and threw the trash away, placing his tray on top of the trash can.

Beverly sighed, she knew he was right. She knew that Eddie was in fact bottling everything up, but she didn’t want to push him to share his experiences. She didn’t want to push him to share all the shit he had gone through in the past few months. She didn’t want him to feel pressured, she wanted him to feel as safe and calm as possible at that point in time. 

But maybe that wasn’t what was best for Eddie.

She pitched her trash in the trash can, setting her tray on top of Bill’s. She looked at him, her mouth set in a tight line.

“I’ll do my best.”

Bill let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Th-Thank you. So m-much.”

“I’m doing it for Eddie’s sake, not yours.”

  
  
Beverly took a deep breath, and sat down in her desk. It was last period, English, and she was especially lucky since her desk was closest to the door. She knew that she would have to bolt to get to Eddie’s locker the second the dismissal bell sounded.

She was doing what Bill had asked of her, she was going to talk to Eddie.

She had no idea how she was going to say it, and she had no idea what to say. She knew she had to get him to open up, even if she had told him that he could open up on his own time. But it had been a month at that point, and Eddie hadn’t said a word about what happened at the camp. 

He was bottling things up, repressing everything that had happened during the camp. It wasn’t healthy.

She knew that it had been worrying the rest of the Losers, Eddie’s behavior. He just hadn’t been himself. Bev didn’t miss how Eddie clearly stuck close to her, always managing to snatch Ben’s usual seat next to her. She didn’t miss his sudden choice of dark clothes (which to Bev, looked like he was trying to dress how a _straight_ boy would dress, not how Eddie would dress). She didn’t miss the fact that she was the only one who could touch him without him immediately pulling away (then profusely apologizing).

She wasn’t sure if the others had picked up on this, but Eddie had been extremely reserved in the past month as well. He didn’t add commentary to the Losers’ conversations unless he was directly asked something like he would have four months ago. Instead, he sat and simply listened to the conversation, mostly with a blank face, as he often zoned out. His eyes would glaze over as he stared at nothing, and each time Beverly would wonder what he had gone through to make him that way. 

The bell that signaled the start of class rang, and Beverly’s English teacher walked in. She sighed, pulling her pen and notebook from her backpack. She figured she might as well try to take notes and pay attention to class. 

As her teacher began her daily lecture about whatever book they were reading that month, Beverly did her best to take notes, but her mind continued worrying without her permission. 

_What if Eddie never got better? ___

____

_What if that camp really fucked him up for good? ___

____

____

She knew Eddie was strong. Eddie would pull through this, right? 

“Ms. Marsh?” Her teacher called out, and Beverly’s head snapped up. Her classmates were looking at her, and a flush grew on her face as she realized she had been zoning out, big time.

“Sorry,” She said, adjusting her position to sit up straight. 

Her teacher nodded and turned back to the board, resuming where she left off. 

Bev looked out the window that was across the room, and was delighted to see that it had begun raining. She could use the rain as an excuse to drive Eddie home, since Eddie tended to walk home most days. She would definitely be able to get Eddie alone without question, she felt more relaxed then. She focused her attention back on the lecture.

The class passed by slowly, surprisingly, listening to a lecture about how money functioned in _The Great Gatsby _wasn’t exactly the most exciting experience in the world. Beverly tuned in and out of the lecture, taking down only the points presented to her on the slideshow that was prompting her English teacher’s lecture. What she talked about didn’t always matter (she tended to go off on tangents about unrelated topics, one time she went from the symbolism of ghosts in A Christmas Carol to kill shelters), the points on the board were always the most important for the tests.__

____

____

When the bell rang, she was talking about how the economy was messed up, and that money was useless. Beverly bolted from the classroom and weaved her way through the throng of students that crowded the hallways. She made it to Eddie’s locker, and was lucky that he hadn’t gotten there yet. She leaned against the locker, trying to look as if she hadn’t just run down two flights of stairs. 

She watched the people walk past her, keeping her eye out for Eddie’s small form.

It was a few minutes before she saw his neatly combed head in the huddle of students, slowly making his way towards his locker. As his face came into view, she saw his surprise that she was already there, since she normally liked to take her sweet time before leaving the school.

“Hey,” Eddie said hesitantly as he reached his locker.

“Hey yourself,” Beverly said, moving out of Eddie’s way. She watched as he turned the dial to unlock his locker. 

“Are you planning on walking home again today?” Beverly asked.

Eddie was putting away his unneeded books as he said, “I was going to, but it’s raining now.”

“If you insist, I’ll give you a ride home,” Beverly said.

Eddie laughed once as he swung his backpack onto his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said. Beverly smiled to him, and they made their way to Beverly’s truck. 

  
  
The truck came to a stop with a halt. The tires sank slightly in the soft ground, the rain beat down on the windshield hard. Beverly turned off the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face Eddie in her seat.

“Why are we at the Quarry?” Eddie asked Beverly, looking around. Eddie had zoned out during the car ride there, so she didn’t worry about him noticing where they were going. 

“We need to talk,” She said, and Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly.

“About…?” 

Beverly knew that Eddie knew what she was talking about. “I know I said that you could wait as long as you need to tell us anything about the camp, but it’s been a month. We’re all so fucking worried about you.”

He looked down at his lap, “I know.”

She placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You can talk to me, or any of the other losers. You don’t have to bottle everything up inside. We’re all here for you.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, one, two, three times, and a tear slid down his cheek. “It was so horrible, Bev. I-I wanted to die everyday.” The tears fell down his face, landing on his limp hands, and he didn’t look at Beverly. 

She rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him as her eyes filled with tears.

Eddie continued on, his voice cracking multiple times from the tears, “They kept telling me that being gay isn’t okay, over and over and over and over. They made us repeat it like a fucking mantra. They told us that it was a sin and that we’re going to hell. Sometimes they–they—”

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” Beverly interrupted him, the tears falling freely. 

Eddie shook his head, it seemed like now that he was revealing these things, he couldn’t just stop. The words began spilling out of him like water in a waterfall, “If they caught us even touching another boy, not even in a romantic or sexual way, they would—they would hit us, and chant the mantra over and over and over and over and over—” Eddie was wringing his wrists, his body was shaking. Beverly’s heart broke and she could physically feel her chest begin to ache with empathy. She leaned over the console and pulled Eddie into a crushing hug.

He buried his face into her shoulder, crying into her band tee and clutching her tightly. She felt the tears soaking through her shirt onto her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She brought her hand to the back of his head, petting his hair, hoping it would calm him down. 

“They wouldn’t even let me say his name, Bev,” He sobbed the words into her shoulder, his voice was muffled and cracking, and he didn’t have to say Richie’s name for Beverly to know who Eddie was talking about. “If I did, they would–they would—”

Beverly shushed him gently, hugging him tighter. She had known it was bad, but she hadn’t known just how bad it was until now, after hearing the words come out of his mouth. It made sense, the fading bruises, the hesitation with the rest of the losers. 

“I can’t even look at him without thinking about it,” Eddie whispered. “I just hear it over and over in my head—” He cut himself off, burying his tear-stained face into Beverly’s shirt. 

They stayed like that for a while—Beverly wasn’t sure how long exactly, it could have been two minutes or it could have been twenty minutes. The car remained silent for that period of time, the only sound was Eddie’s hitching breathing. Beverly held Eddie, rubbing his back and the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him.

She couldn’t express how much she felt for Eddie. He had been through so much, and he had endured it for four long months. She no longer blamed him for keeping it to himself for so long, she knew how hard opening up about something traumatic could be. She had dealt with a similar event when she was removed from her father’s home. She wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of horrors.

Maybe that was why Eddie had been clinging to Beverly. She was one of the Losers who had experienced that kind of suffering and pain for a long time. Or maybe she was looking too much into it, and Eddie had only stayed close to her because of her gender. Which, she was also okay with. 

And then Eddie pulled away from her and wiped his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I told you, I’m always here for you if you need someone to listen. And so are the others.”

Eddie nodded, and she knew there were things that he still was not telling her.

And she was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry it took so long to get this up! this chapter has been written and just sitting in my docs for two months and i just haven't had the inspiration to touch this fic. i'm hoping to come back to the wonderful fandom, but updates on this fic will be slow because i am starting college next week (,: 
> 
> also review it makes me want to write more

**Author's Note:**

> drop by my tumblr - reddhie (:


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